Forever and Always
by Twilight 3-1
Summary: Love and Death in war needs no bullets or ammunition. HM, Character Death.


"Hmmm…and as well as…"

"As well as what? There's already a pool _and_ a ping pong table!"

"What about a poker table?"

"You mean like one of those crushed, green, velvety ones?"

"Yeah like one of those ones."

"Not on my kitchen table."

"Who says it's your kitchen table?"

"I've seen your attempt at cooking…almost as bad at your attempt to fix a car."

"Oh and I suppose you're any better?"

"Yeah I suppose I am."

"Knowing you it'd be all potatoes"

Margaret chuckled in complaint "That's not a nice thing to say to the woman who is gonna save you from pizza and pasta every night."

"There's nothing wrong with having a purely Italian diet."

"Except for the fact the Chinese originally invented pasta."

"Rice…not pasta. There's a big difference."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah!" he mocked her.

Hawkeye and Margaret had recently become engaged. No wedding showers or drunken bachelor parties wanted. And especially no repeat of October 1951. At the present, they were relaxing in Margaret's tent, discussing, quarrelling and joking about their new home, what was going to be in it and what definitely wasn't. Margaret's quiet Hawkeye-free room was, and Hawkeye's 2000-dollar jukebox wasn't.

"Do you suppose that BJ and Charles are back from the orphanage yet?"

"Probably not…why do you ask? Getting bored of me already?"

"For what that rock on your finger cost, no way. Not for another 5 years, which is how long it's gonna take me to pay it off."

"Nice to know you don't want me for my possessions then" she joked.

"No, not your possessions." He smiled at her.

"Then why do you want to know if they're back then?" she interrupted the moment, sitting up against his leg.

"You remember the 4 year old boy, who lost his right leg?"

"Yes" Margaret sighed sadly.

"There were possible signs of infection; redness, swollen. Plus he didn't look too well."

"Neither would you if you had lost a leg."

"Not like that, I meant he complained of a sore throat and was coughing a lot. I gave Sister Theresa extra doses of penicillin for him."

"Don't stress it Hawkeye, you've done all that you could besides finding him a sarcophagus."

"A what?" Hawkeye looked at her.

"In ancient Egypt, a sarcophagus was used to heal the owner, usually a pharaoh or god. My dad spent a few months stationed near Cairo, I learnt a lot about mythology there."

"You just continue to amaze me you know that?"

"Well you don't know everything about me."

"Like what else?"

"Like for example…I used to be a cheerleader at my last school, which lasted 3 months."

"And dated football jocks?"

"No, I just cheered and didn't have anything to do with them."

"You a cheerleader. I can't imagine it."

"Don't ask me to try any of the moves now…that was 10 years ago."

"Well, you can move in other…fun ways now."

Margaret laughed. "Which is why I am eternally grateful to have been able to cheer. Without that, none of your favourite moves could be done."

"So what you're saying is that when we get home, we should build a shrine and thank the cheerleader-god then?" he joked. Margaret hit him and burst out laughing, before she began coughing heavily.

"Hey, you alright?"

She didn't answer him.

Hawkeye's expression changed to a look of concern "Margaret?" He began rubbing circles on her back to try and calm it down.

After a minute or so the coughing ceased and she looked at him. "You wearing new cologne or something?" she asked him, half joking.

"No, nothing new."

"Could it be an allergy?" she asked him.

"Are you using any new soap, perfume, washing powder…"

"Only the same thing I've been using for the past 2 years."

"Flowers?"

"There's none in here."

"Something you ate?"

"Just the regular, army slop I've lived on forever."

Hawkeye put his hand to her forehead.

Margaret rolled her eyes "I'm not sick Hawkeye."

"And that's what Europe said before 1/3 of it died from the plague. You don't feel warm."

"And I'm not."

"Wait here."

"Where are you going?" she questioned him.

"To see if Potter's using anything different."

Hawkeye went to Potter and discussed the issue. Potter, quite perplexed told him nothing was different. The garbage was still at a sanitary distance, new latrines every 2 months, same stationary, same gloves, bandages and disinfectant. Nothing had changed except for Margaret's cough. To be sure, the colonel had asked Hawkeye to perform allergy tests. Maybe Margaret had developed it within the last few months.

Hawkeye went back to her and told her the news. She wasn't entirely exhumed with joy; she hated needles with a passion, and only in emergency did she ever get one. He assured her it was such an emergency, and at Potter's request. Reluctantly she gave in and agreed to it.

"But you're _not_ administering the needles."

"No fun?"

"Get Kellye to do it. I don't trust either of you four with a sharp implement."

Hawkeye clutched at his chest. "Margaret you wound me. After I go to the trouble to remove your appendix without leaving so much as a scratch?"

"Yes."

"So you're not marrying me for free operations then?"

"No. I'm hoping that after all this there won't be a need to have any operations."

"Well after that, I wouldn't operate on you for love _or_ money!"

"Sex?"

"Well that's different." He smirked.

Later that evening, BJ and Charles returned. An incident with a breeched, birth and a 14 year-old mother took a while to handle. All either of them wanted to do was eat, and get to bed. They arrived back to find the majority of people in the mess tent.

"Colonel" BJ called out, tray loaded with food.

"Glad to see you're back."

"Anything the matter?" Hawkeye asked, concerned about the boy.

"Breech birth by a 14 year old." Charles informed him.

"God, is she alright?" Margaret asked, silently swearing the mothers were getting younger and younger.

"Oh yeah, after 9 hours and a few times passing out, mother and baby are doing fine."

"What was it?"

"A tiny girl." Charles declared.

"And by tiny…smallest baby I've ever seen."

"Premature?"

"Probably, Colonel I told the sister we'd be back in a few days to check on her."

"Good idea. You free to do it?"

"One house call I have no trouble making."

"How was the kid?" Hawkeye asked him, wanting to know.

"Doing fine. The swelling you saw was from playing in dirt and the sore throat was just a mild cold."

"That's good to hear."

Hawkeye, BJ and Margaret went into their own conversation as Potter and Charles left the tent for the office to get a report from the orphanage.

"So, anything exciting happen whilst I was away?"

Margaret looked at Hawkeye and smirked. "Nothing you probably want to hear about."

"I think he does Margaret. Klinger hung out washing, Potter rode his horse…and one of the nurses broke a nail."

"Nothing else?"

"And Margaret's allergic to me."

"I am not!"

"Are too, I made a joke about the cheerleader god…"

"There's a cheerleader god now?"

"Of course…without him where would we be? Actual football fans only going to games, and un-coordinated gymnasts falling down everywhere."

"So what's wrong with the cheerleader god then?"

"Margaret's allergic to him and started coughing."

"Coughing?"

"Mr Melodramatic over here thinks a simple cough means I'm allergic to everything under the sun."

"And the cheerleader god…where did that come into it all?"

"Never mind, just a stupid joke." Margaret assured him.

"A simple cough I would over look. But that was no simple cough. A fit is getting close."

"There's nothing wrong, I just swallowed air."

"Wait, a fit?"

"A laughing fit gone wrong." She wanted them off the subject.

"New cologne?" BJ looked at Hawkeye.

"New nothing! There is nothing…wrong…" Margaret began coughing mid sentence.

"I wouldn't call that a simple cough would you?" Hawkeye looked over at BJ then back at Margaret.

"You want me to get some water?" BJ poured a cup before waiting for an answer.

Margaret continued to cough, this time the whole tent was watching,

"Okay Margaret…" Hawkeye was rubbing her back, trying to calm her down.

After a few minutes it stopped, Margaret looking ragged from it.

"When can we do the test?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

"Now. BJ, you get Kellye, I'll meet you in the lab." He helped her up and they walked out.

10 minutes later, Kellye was taking blood from Margaret

"Squeeze this."

"I know what to do Kellye, just take it."

"Easy Margaret." BJ reassured her.

Hawkeye put a thermometer in her mouth as Potter walked in. "How's our patient." Margaret rolled her eyes and looked annoyed. _Our patient?_

"We'll know for sure in…a few days."

"A few DAYS? Why's it gonna take a few days?" Margaret was more than slightly put off, making it difficult for Kellye to take blood and keep her rank. "You've got an incubator; USE IT!" She was now yelling, which brought on a third coughing fit.

"Kellye, take it out." Hawkeye ordered her. She complied and stood well back.

Margaret was bent over the chair, desperate but unable to stop. Whatever it was she had, it was starting to really piss her off. Trust something like this to happen as soon as something good came about.

"Getting…sick…of" was all she managed to get out.

"I know." Hawkeye had his arm over her shoulders.

Everyone else in the room stood clear, waiting for it to cease.

Margaret grabbed at her head, overly frustrated and ready to shoot herself if it didn't stop.

"Margaret, _Margaret!_ Calm down! You're only making it worse."

They began to make a connection: a rise in heart-rate, caused the coughing. It happened when she laughed and when she yelled. If they didn't find the cause soon, she'd be coughing constantly. Five minutes later, she had begun to calm down and eventually, the coughing stopped for the moment.

"This is really starting to piss me off." She informed them. They were slightly startled at the fact the worse thing Margaret had ever said was 'damn'.

"Shall I continue captain?" Kellye asked Hawkeye.

"Yeah, and Margaret…keep it down." He smirked at her. She just glared at him and grimaced as the needle went back in.

Another few minutes later and Hawkeye had his 4 tubes of blood.

"Get on it right away will you?" he asked BJ.

"I'm on it." BJ informed him as he began setting up for the testing.

"You alright?" Potter asked Margaret, who looked like hell.

"As well as can be expected." She groaned.

"Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Sir, if you don't mind…can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked him.

"We'll wait outside." BJ and Kellye walked out.

"Want me to go?" Hawkeye asked her.

"No." She told him. "Sir…I think it's a good idea if Kellye takes over for a while."

Potter and Hawkeye both looked very surprised.

"Oh knock it off!" she glared at them.

"Well Margaret this is…"

"Not you." Hawkeye finished.

"Well it's a good thing I'm not myself at the moment then now is it? Sir, just until this has cleared up." She informed him. "I really don't feel up to it at the moment." Neither of them said anything. "Please?" she asked him, nearly begging.

"Okay Margaret, I'll tell her. You just focus on getting some sleep."

"Thank you."

"Come on." Hawkeye held out his hand and the two left.

"Damn!" Potter said to himself.

"Anything wrong…aside from the obvious Colonel?" BJ asked him.

"Kellye." The nurse looked at him. "Margaret requested that I appoint you temporary head nurse."

"Yes sir." She replied, a little shocked.

"Margaret said that…without prompting?" BJ was as shocked as he was.

"Yeah." Potter was thinking.

"Maybe she doesn't want anything to go wrong on her part."

"Probably. I'll go inform Winchester and the other nurses." Potter left the two to begin.

"You think she'll be alright Captain?" Kellye asked BJ, concerned.

"I don't know Kel. I really don't know."

BJ and Kellye were working through the night. Both eager to get to the bottom of this, they were thankful for the wounded-less night.

Meanwhile Margaret was having a difficult time sleeping. She was tossing and turning, much to Hawkeye's frustration and didn't appear to be having a good night. Truth be told, she was scared as all hell of what could be wrong. Being in a place where western medicine had reached in certain areas and only through the act of war, who knows what she might have. Hawkeye believed she was going to be fine; in all his knowledge of medicine it was most likely an allergy. But he wouldn't bet his house on it.

"Hey" he said to her when he saw she was awake.

"Hey" she replied.

"No coughing…"

"No sleeping either." She sighed. "Are you stealing the blanket? It's freezing in here."

Hawkeye looked at her. "I kicked the blanket off 3 hours ago…you feeling alright?"

"No. I'm cold, I'm coughing and if I don't get some sleep I swear I'll put a gun to my head."

"Okay, okay…before you pull the trigger would you like to see how a sedative will do?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Margaret moved to let Hawkeye out.

"I hope this works" she muttered.

"Unless you're a 9 foot, 400 pound man from New Guinea, it should."

"Or someone whose contracted a relatively unknown disease…"

"Hey, negative reinforcement helps no one."

"You try living with it and see how positive you get."

"You're not _living_ with anything. You caught a little bug. It'll pass."

"That's what the archduke of Austria was going to do…and look where that landed the world."

"Shut up and go to sleep." He ordered her.

"Yes…sir!" she mocked saluted and yawned…and began to cough.

"Crap…" Hawkeye muttered under his breath, helping her to sit up.

Sitting up behind her, Hawkeye held Margaret forward, hoping that something to help them figure out what was wrong would come up. Something did come up…but not helpful, as Margaret retched and threw up all over the bed, coughing and spluttering.

The coughing fit ceased sooner, but a larger problem lay before them.

"Oh God…Hawkeye." Margaret looked up at him, visibly distraught and upset, with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Post Op…now." He ordered with no protest from her as he helped her up.

"God…what is wrong with me?" she asked out loud, crying.

"Shhh…nothing's wrong with you Margaret…"

"There is…there always is." She wasn't giving it up, only causing more distress and possible outbreaks.

"Lie down first…the sedative will kick in soon." He reassured her.

Entering Post Op, Charles was surprised to find them: Hawkeye holding a bent over, near unconscious Margaret up.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Another coughing fit, then she threw up." He laid her down and she was out like a light.

"Anything before that?" Charles examined her eyes.

"I gave her a sedative to sleep…"

"How much?" Charles asked, helping to lie her down.

"Enough."

"What does 'enough mean'?"

"How the hell should I know?" Hawkeye yelled in despair, he couldn't help her…and it was killing him.

"Pierce…how much?" Charles could see yelling wouldn't get answers.

"10…no 15 milligrams."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Hawkeye paused for several moments. "God what's happening to her?" he cried in an outburst.

"I don't know Pierce."

"Well you should!"

"Why should I know?"

"Because you're the smartest man here. What is it? You wanted her and now you can't have her, no one can?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What's going on here?" BJ ran in, Kellye on his heels. "God what happened?" he asked upon seeing Margaret. "Kellye, go get Potter."

"Yes sir"

"That's it isn't it? You're jealous…Tell me for God's sake…WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER!" Hawkeye was ready to punch out Charles.

"Hey…Hawk…HAWK!"

"PIERCE STOP IT!" Charles shook him out of it…quite literally. "If I were at all interested in Margaret, of which I am not, I would _never _let a person stay sick just for the sake of a jealous romance. And finally how the hell would I know?"

"That's not gonna help her get better Hawk."

"What's going on?" Potter stormed in, slightly put off at the lack of detail.

"That man needs _serious_ psychiatric evaluation." Charles sneered.

"Winchester…this is no time to be snotty…Pierce, what happened?"

"She wasn't sleeping, I gave her a sedative, she starting coughing and threw up." Hawkeye wasn't sure what he was saying…delirious and delusional.

"Allergic reaction?" he pondered, keeping his cool.

"Possibly…Kellye…"

"I'm on it sir!" she called out, rushing to the lab.

"In the meantime…start her on saline IV…" Potter began to order.

"…what for?" Hawkeye looked up at him, ragged.

"Re-hydrate her…get her electrolytes up. Saline IV and a close watch was all I was gonna say."

"Yes Colonel." Charles wandered off to set it up.

"Pierce…get some sleep."

"NO!"

"Hawk…you're dead on your feet. Sleep a while and if she changed, we'll wake you."

"I'm staying here." He was adamant in it.

"Pierce…do I have to make it an order?"

"Do what you want, I'm staying here." Hawkeye sat down next to her and brushed a lock of hair off her face.

"Okay Pierce…you take first watch." Potter and BJ walked away.

"Do you have any idea what it could be Colonel?"

"Everything leads to an allergic reaction."

"The vomiting?"

"…a bad allergic reaction."

"Will saline do?"

"We can only hope BJ." The two looked over to where Hawkeye was sitting, not looking away from her.

By early morning nothing had changed. BJ and Kellye were still testing Margaret's blood. Charles was re-reading patient reports. Potter was in his tent trying to sleep. Margaret was still very much unconscious and Hawkeye hadn't moved from beside her.

"Pierce…Pierce." Charles was trying to wake him up

"Mmphf what? Is she awake?" he shot up.

"No change since you brought her in. Why don't you grab a shower?"

"I'm staying here."

"You'll feel a lot better"

He yawned. "I'm not the one who needs to feel better."

Charles looked at him for a few moments and walked away.

By 10 that morning the whole camp had been notified of what had happened. Everyone becoming a little paranoid of what exactly it was that she was sick from. Whether it was contagious or not. BJ and Kellye had come up stumped. Margaret had minor flu-like symptoms, but test results showed those of a bacterial infection. Neither of which were being fought to a great extent by her immune system. A general order put out, that anyone with similar symptoms should report to Post Op immediately.

"Has he slept at all?"

"According to Charles, only an hour or so." BJ yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Why don't you go get some sleep?" Potter suggested to him.

"I need to figure this out first." And very determined to do so.

"And make a key error in finding out what it is? Sleep Hunnicutt. I'll take a gander and see what I can come up with."

"No fighting the majority…" he mumbled, unaware of what he was saying.

The next few days were critical. Margaret had yet to show any signs of consciousness. Potter declared it a coma, and Hawkeye went ballistic.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE! WHY CAN'T YOU FIND IT OUT?"

"PIERCE, if you don't calm down I'll have you sedated!"

He calmed it, but only enough to stop screaming.

Grave fears were held as nothing changed for the better. Another drip had been inserted in the hope it would help her immune system fight whatever she had. Specialists had been brought in: nothing. The local Korean 'witchdoctor' had even been brought in. He shook his head and showed a look of despair. Hawkeye lost it for a second time, screaming and cursing and nearly-throttling anyone who came within reach. They got him sedated and things settled for the meantime.

Mulcahy had been in every day; praying and hoping that she would recover. As the days turned into a week…he saw the look in the doctors eyes…and his prayers also turned to Hawkeye, that he would be able to cope with whatever the end was.

"How much longer do you think she has?" BJ asked out of the blue, knowing that she wasn't going to wake up.

"I'd say another day or two. Dammit." Potter knew the situation was hopeless. Only a miracle would work now.

"How can a perfectly healthy young woman all of a sudden be on her deathbed?" the two cringed at Charles' use of the word. "It's true isn't it…that she 'is' dying. None of us want to say it…but it's the truth."

"I called her father a few days ago…he said he'd be on the first flight out here."

"Should be here this afternoon or so then."

"If she holds out that long…"

They turned their attentions to Hawkeye, who was leaning over her, talking in whispers.

"…or we could get a dog. You always preferred them to cats. Me too for that matter…cats leave hair lying around. I know you wouldn't want any mess about either. We never talked about kids, having one or two or ten or none. I like three…one for each plus a spare. Keep us on our toes. And then they can each have three kids…imagine that…us with nine grandchildren." He chuckled at the thought. "Us with one kid is scary enough. But we'll make it. We have you. You have to get better so we can build this life together. Come on Margaret, this isn't you. You're a fighter. A Houlihan: tough as nails, kick anyone in the ass when they need it. Fight to the death." At the thought of those words he knew: she was fighting. But not all fights end in a win. He was brought back to reality at the sharp intake of her breath. He panicked.

"Haw…" was all she could manage.

He leapt up, pulling her to him, kissing her head, her forehead, her face. "You're…"

"…In pain."

He quickly released her, laying her back on the bed. The other 3 doctors by this time were by the bed, all talking at once, happily cheering.

Margaret closed her eyes and winced in pain. She hated noise, especially now, and wished to be deaf at that moment. She wanted them gone; she had to talk to Hawkeye, alone. She was awake, but not alive. She had heard him talking to her, telling her to fight it. She had been fighting for the past two weeks, tooth and nail. Reserving energy for one, last, moment with him. And she didn't want that spent with having to listen to yelling.

"I…need…to talk…to you." She managed. "Now…alone."

"Okay, we'll talk, we'll talk for the rest of our lives!" He kissed her again.

"Please. Now."

The others sensed her eagerness and moved away to watch at a distance.

Hawkeye looked puzzled. "What is it?"

"I…just wanted you to know…I was fighting."

"I know you have!" he remarked cheerfully.

"But I…can't fight any longer."

His expression changed; he was confused and scared.

"I've been waiting for the energy to tell you this. I can't fight it any longer."

"Yes you can." He declared, almost angry "You've got to. You've come this far…"

Tears stung at her eyes "But I don't want to anymore. It hurts…too much."

"Morphine, we'll up the morphine."

"No Hawkeye" she shook her head "It's too painful. I can't lie here and know you're dying inside as I am. I'm sorry."

His eyes were wild with panic "No, no you've got nothing to be sorry about."

"I'm selfish. I can't watch it happen to you…but that you have to watch me. It's too painful."

"No…no, no, no, no, no, come on Margaret, come on! You're Irish for chrissake!" he joked.

"And they died from famine. I'm not made of stone…everyone dies."

"But not at 30."

She nodded "Yes at 30, and at 20, and 10…and before they're even alive in the first place." Hawkeye was crying, losing to battle to hold back tears. Margaret took his face in her hands. "Don't let this thing kill you too."

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go. But I can't stay. This thing has already taken my life, my happiness away…don't let it take yours too."

Hawkeye was shaking his head as if saying no. "Without you I have no life."

She was down to a whisper "That's not true."

"It is. I've only ever loved 3 women in this world. One was taken away from me; the other left me. I can't lose you too."

"You're not…"

"No." he interrupted, "My whole life was about me. When I became a doctor it was my patients and me. When I met you, it became about us. I can't live with another empty hole in me." He gave into the crying and sobbed, lowering his head to her shoulder. "Please forgive me." He whispered through the tears.

She pulled his head up to look at her. Half smiling she told him "Always." He kissed her mouth, hard and with need.

Breaking away she whispered on his lips "I love you. Always and forever."

"Always and forever…" he repeated.

The others watched in sadness…a glimmer of hope and light was dashed. Father Mulcahy was brought in and they watched over the last few minutes.

"Lie down with me…please?" she begged.

Saying nothing he did so, grasping her hand and laying the other across her.

"Can you do one, last, thing for me?"

"Anything, always."

"Tell my dad I love him, and I'm sorry I wasn't who he wanted me to be."

"You're more than anyone could want." He kissed her forehead as she shuddered. Through tears he whispered. "Go to sleep. Everything will be better tomorrow."

"I love you." She whispered as the life drained from her body.

"I love you too." He kissed her lips, tears falling from her cheeks and his as she left. "Forever and always."

Everyone else in the room was crying. Tears for the leader, tears for the carer, tears for the woman they would never hear from again.

_Att: all personnel, incoming wounded._

And the reality of life was brought back to them. Leaving the two together, they silently left to go help those who could be saved.

True to his word, Al Houlihan stepped out of the chopper that evening and ran down to the camp. Greeted by a weary-eyed Potter he saw the look on his face and knew.

"No…"

"She's…she's gone."

And the two men wept openly together; bonded by the woman they knew as their daughter.

"Can I see her?" he asked, desperate for one last sight, memory of his little girl.

Potter nodded and they walked into triage where she had been moved. Hawkeye at her side, determined to do her last request. Al saw the look in his eyes and knew what the man and his daughter had shared. Now a loss all three of them had. Hawkeye stood to address him.

"She wanted me to tell you she loves you…and that she's sorry she wasn't who you wanted her to be." Al nodded in recognition. "She was all that and more."

Potter and Hawkeye left him to be alone with her for a few minutes. Hawkeye looking worse than anyone, even he; could imagine.

"Son…I'm sorry."

Hawkeye didn't reply.

"Would you like me to place a call to your father?"

Hawkeye shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was talk. Talking's what killed her.

"We'll get through this, everyone together." Potter knew that wasn't true. Hawkeye would most likely be sent home from this. And Sidney would want to be in on it, the call already having been made earlier that day.

"Forever and always…" he muttered, repeating his words.

The 4077th would lose another before the week was out. Margaret's funeral held, her body shipped home and the camp slowly regaining control and composure. Kellye was promoted and made permanent head-nurse and a new doctor was being sought out. Hawkeye had retreated to the Swamp and stayed there. A particularly one-sided farewell talk with Al, a treaty of sorts being the highlight of his demise. From then on nothing. BJ tried to get something, anything out of him. Anger, frustration, hurt, tears. Nothing. No emotion…just a shell of a former man. Daniel had been informed; Hawkeye had been put on, nothing but muttering and reassurance. He was dead inside…his body just hadn't caught up.

Then the Sunday after Margaret's death, Hawkeye had disappeared from the Swamp. They searched the camp and surrounding area, finally finding him in Margaret's tent; her belongings still where they had left them: catatonic. No reaction to sight or sound, just emptiness and a fading pulse. BJ tried to bring him back, Potter had stopped it, letting him go. A cold breeze rushing through the tent as he left; spooking those who were witness. There were no tears shed, no crying took place – they had cried all they could for the first. But in the end they found solace; the second joining the first as they again found each other.

Happiness found in the darkest of times was cruelly taken away by an unknown enemy. War took what war gave…giving little and taking it all. Lives were lost without bullets; one from disease, the other a broken heart. To those outside looking in, Hawkeye and Margaret would only be two names amongst a sea of loss and death. But to those inside looking out, they were the Romeo and Juliet of Korea – lovers in life and death. Forever and always.


End file.
